


What Happens in Vegas

by Cassandra_Elise



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, One Shot, References to the Beatles, Romantic Fluff, Sexual Tension, Surprise Kissing, Wish Fulfillment, Wishful Thinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 09:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15531552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cassandra_Elise/pseuds/Cassandra_Elise
Summary: Set some time during season 5. House is looking forward to several days of playing hooky at a doctors' conference in Las Vegas. Little does he expect to find romance...and with a familiar face.





	What Happens in Vegas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alexis_Rockford](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Rockford/gifts).



> I wrote this several years ago for Alexis Rockford, who requested House/Cameron, a little Cuddy/Wilson, and Beatles references.

“But Mommy, I don’t want to go to a stupid conference!” With his bottom lip turned down into a pout and the whine of a two-year-old masking his usually gruff voice, House was every bit the spoiled brat.

After years of working with him, Cuddy was accustomed to these childish displays, but that didn’t mean she liked them. (Though House sometimes accused her of getting some perverse delight out of playing mother to him). She rolled her eyes and let out one of her trademark sighs of disapproval. “We need the heads of each department to attend. You’re head diagnostician, ergo…”

“But Foreman acts like he’s in charge. Send him instead.”

Cuddy’s withering glare indicated she did not agree. “I thought you would be thrilled at this chance to go to Las Vegas. You could gamble away a paycheck—”

“Or two,” suggested House with a wink.

“—and hire a hooker—“

“Or two.” He winked again.

“And Wilson will be there,” she added for more incentive. “You two can play hooky together.”

“Hooky with the hookers. Sounds good.” House tossed his cane from one hand to the other. “All right, you’ve got me convinced. When do we leave?”

Cuddy blinked in surprise at his sudden change of mind, but she managed to collect herself and hand him an airline ticket. “I’ll see you at the airport on Wednesday.” As he gimped out of her office, she rubbed her temple. Why did she always have to pull teeth to get her subordinate to obey?

House marched along the hospital corridors as well as he could with his aching leg. He reached Wilson’s office and burst in without checking to see if his friend was busy or not. “Wilson, pack your bags! We’re getting lucky! And I mean in more ways than one.”

Fortunately, Wilson was alone, but he still was not amused at his friend’s antics. Continuing his work, he slipped some papers into a manila folder and filed them in the appropriate drawer. “So Cuddy told you about the seminar in Vegas, huh?”

“We are going to have some serious fun.” House paused to deliberate for a second. “Can I borrow some cash for the slots?”

“House,” Wilson began warningly.

“Fine. I’ll restrict myself to the penny slots. That way you won’t have to give me much money.”

“House.”

“Though I will also need money for the Craps tables and the roulette wheel and the poker tables and—”

 “HOUSE!”

House scowled and slumped into Wilson’s sofa. “Something tells me this is about to turn into a lecture.”

“You might be going to Vegas only so you can slip out of the seminar and play around, but I’m actually going to learn something.”

“And here it is.” House rolled his eyes at the predictability of his friend. “For once could you save me your longwinded rant on what a crappy human being I am?”

Wilson managed a placating smile. “Las Vegas is opened 24 hours a day, you know. We can hang out at night after the conferences are over.”

"How generous of you," House’s voice dripped with sarcasm. "But I wanted a hooker at nine in the morning. I can't wait until night!”

Wilson smirked knowingly. “So get one without me. They just don’t stand on the street corners til after dark.”

House was intrigued, but before he could ask his buddy to elaborate, he waved him off. “I’ve got a patient consultation in ten minutes.”

“That will be cheery.”

Wilson nodded sadly. “Yeah, well, the perks of the trade.”

Finding himself once again banished—for lack of a better word—House pondered whom he could harass next. He supposed he could see what Boreman and Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest were up to, but that seemed like a waste of energy. Instead, he found himself wandering quite instinctively toward the ER.

As of late, he had found himself inexplicably drawn to that ward of the hospital—and to a certain doctor working there. Truth be told, he liked visiting Cameron. House told himself it had to do with her intuitive diagnosing abilities, which he had been sorely missing since she had left his team. Or maybe it had to do with the incredibly interesting cases he often discovered whilst pestering her. Whatever the reason, he enjoyed his time in the ER with her and always looked for a good excuse to visit.

House meandered around the ER for a good 10 minutes before he spotted Cameron’s familiar blonde head and purple scrubs. She was busy instructing one of her fellow doctors. “I know filling out forms seems like a tedious practice, but the longer you prolong it, the more work it will end up being. I try to get the day’s forms completed before I leave for the night. But do what you can, Dr. Anderson. I realize you’re filling in under short notice.” Her eyes flickered to House’s face for a brief moment and seemed to light up with an excited glow. She excused herself from the wiry, freckled Dr. Anderson and made her way over to him. “Do you need something, House?”

He smirked impishly. “I have so many answers to that question…”

 Cameron smiled, despite herself. “I meant of a medical nature.”

Their eyes locked for the briefest of moments, and House felt at once a sense of familiarity and of deep-rooted confusion. He quickly looked away and nodded at Anderson. “What’s going on with him?”

“He’s taking over the ER for me.”

“What? You’re leaving?” He felt his heart constrict until he couldn’t feel anything in his chest but excruciating pain, and he vaguely congratulated his good luck at having a heart attack in the emergency ward. He went over his other symptoms: shallowness of breath, irregular heartbeat, dizziness. Yep, he was having a heart attack. “Where are you going?” he managed to get out through gritted teeth.

“I’m attending the conference in Vegas. Maybe we’ll see each other there.” She studied his wan face. “Are you all right? You look pale.”

“Vicodin withdrawal,” he lied. His symptoms started to abate one by one. Maybe it had been a mild case of angina, or something he ate—or a panic attack. He brushed the latter idea aside. “Why are you going to Las Vegas? You attending a lecture on manning ambulances?”

“I asked to go. They’re having a great panel on Immunology.”

House snorted. “Figures. You want to go, and you don’t have to, and I have to go, and I don’t want to.”

Before Cameron could retort, a woman thrashing in pain was rolled into the ward on a gurney. Cameron rushed over to investigate. “I’ll see you at the airport,” she called back to him.

House surveyed her as she bent over the groaning patient and couldn’t help but smile. This trip was getting better by the minute.

**8**

“This trip is getting worse by the minute,” House loudly complained to Wilson as they stood in the security line to get x-rayed. He had just discovered that Wilson would not be sitting next to him on the flight but in the row ahead of him. “So who’s sitting next to me if you aren’t? Who has 15B?”

Wilson shrugged, seemingly unaffected by this devastating news. “I don’t know. But Cuddy’s sitting next to me in 14A.”

“Why the hell is the Dean of Medicine going to a conference? Is she that desperate for a free vacation?”

Wilson glared. “She’s making sure her staff members actually attend the meetings and aren’t distracted by shiny objects.”

“She lied to me. She promised I could play hooky if I wanted to.”

“Poor House,” Wilson said sarcastically. “If you stop feeling sorry for yourself, I’ll ask if she’ll switch seats with you.”

Mollified for the moment, House watched as Wilson squeezed backwards in the line to reach Cuddy. Passengers looked at him oddly, but no one protested that he was taking cuts to the back of the line. He finally reached the Dean of Medicine, who already looked harried and ready to throw in the towel. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion as Wilson explained the situation to her. An evil smile spread across her thin face as she made eye contact with House. She slowly shook her head “no” so that he could see it from across the room.

“Bitch,” he muttered.

Wilson shrugged apologetically, but remained standing and conversing with Cuddy. The traitor. House would get his revenge later. He imagined himself jabbing them in the back of their seats with his cane all through the flight.

His dream was shattered when the security guard decided his cane was a weapon and pulled him over for a full-body pat-down. “This is discrimination against cripples,” he barked to anyone who would listen. He was finally given an ultimatum: store his cane in the overhead compartment or go home. House wondered if his boss would notice his absence if he sneaked out now, but upon seeing Cameron’s lithe form as she made it through the security line unscathed, he changed his mind and cooperated.

Soon he was sitting on the plane in the aisle seat of row 15, wondering who was going to sit next to him. He leaned forward and peered through the crack in the seats in front of him. “Cuddy,” he hissed. “Who did you give ticket 15B to?”

Cuddy twisted uncomfortably in her chair to glower at him. “I don’t know, House. I gave them all out at random.”

“Sure you did, which is why you’re conveniently seated next to Wilson, your ‘true love.’”

Wilson joined Cuddy in glaring. “Shut up, House,” his friend warned him.

Momentarily defeated, House leaned back. He really needed to know who was going to be his new best friend for the next several hours. He felt a throbbing headache coming on, which intensified when he saw the head of the Obstetrics department shuffling down the aisle toward his row. Dr. Monroe was a blunt, solemn woman convinced of her own life-saving virtues. As if delivering babies was that important.

“Please pass this row, please pass this row,” he prayed under his breath.

Dr. Monroe paused at row 15 and honored House with a condescending glance before climbing over him into the window seat. He let out a sigh of relief. 15B was still empty.

He gazed down the aisle at the remaining passengers. His pulse rate accelerated when he saw Cameron coming toward him in skinny jeans and a purple v-neck sweater, both hugging her curves in all the right places. _Hell yeah_ , he thought, his blue eyes appraising her figure. She paused at his row, glanced at her ticket, looked back up and stared at her boarding pass again.

“Something wrong?” House asked with a modicum of glee.

She frowned slightly before meeting his gaze. “Can I get in?” Her eyes bore into his, challenging him.

He took the challenge. “You want a poor cripple to get up and move? My cane is locked up securely in the overhead compartment, but if you want me to get up without any aid…” he made to move, but she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Never mind.” She paused to consider her next move. Finally, she tossed her purse on her chair then scooted past House, giving him ample view of her stunning little ass. House thanked fate or whatever was out there for his stroke of luck.

The flight went better than expected. House took great pleasure in tossing his complimentary pretzels at Wilson and Cuddy. Cameron pretended to be annoyed at his childish behavior, but when a pretzel slid down Cuddy’s inappropriately cut blouse, she let out a giggle that she feebly masked as a cough. Then she slipped him her own bag of pretzels.

House simpered. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Cameron grinned back. “Casablanca. Great movie.”

House’s respect for her doubled. Later on, it quadrupled as they watched the in-flight movie together. It was a pathetic chick flick that had everyone (including Wilson, to House’s chagrin) sniffling at the end. Everyone but Cameron. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I hate this cheesy crap,” she whispered to House.

House ignored the titillation that crept down his spine as her breath brushed his skin. “You and me both,” he admitted. He turned to smile approvingly at her and found his face mere centimeters from hers. As they stared in surprise at each other, nose to nose, he noticed her eyes were a green-grey, as complex and changeable as the sea. Her skin was decorated with tiny freckles, almost imperceptible to the human eye. Her lips were pink, moist and parted into an expression of shock at the sudden nearness of him. He gulped and slowly backed away.

The rest of the flight passed uneventfully, a sudden awkwardness squelching the former playful mood between them. When they landed, Cameron fumbled with her purse and cast a sideways glance at him. “This is it. I’ll see you around the seminar.”

“Sure,” he mumbled.

But House didn’t attend the seminar. Oh sure, he made the pretense of going, just to get Cuddy off his back, but once the conference began, he slipped out and spent his day at the casinos. The three-day conference passed quickly in this fashion: House spending his money on craps, poker and slots, while the rest of the hospital staff listened to lecture after lecture on subjects they were already experts on. After the seminar was over for the day, the other doctors would get their fill of gambling and shows before retiring for the evening. But House never saw Cameron out on the casino floor. “Little holier-than-thou,” he muttered on the second night of Cameron being a no show.

In fact, he only saw Cameron once during the entire conference. She was talking to Wilson as they headed toward the Vegas Strip for some lunch. She spotted House at the Texas Hold ‘Em table but kept silent. Which was good, because Cuddy joined the pair at that moment. House quickly gathered his chips and tottered off in the opposite direction before his boss could discover his truant behavior.

On their last night in Vegas, House decided it was time for him and Wilson to find those hookers Cuddy had “promised” them. As soon as the last lecture was over, he rushed to his friend’s hotel room and waited for his return. Wilson was not at all surprised to see House hanging in the hallway outside like a loyal puppy.

“There’s two girls on a street corner somewhere just waiting for our arrival,” House yelled loudly enough for the entire floor to hear.

Wilson fixed him with a withering glare and shoved him into the hotel room before he could embarrass him further. “I’m sorry, House,” he said, as he firmly shut the door behind them. “But I’ve got plans for the evening.”

“Unless they involve a woman, they’re not good plans.”

Wilson hesitated. “Actually…”

House stared at him in disbelief. “You’re going on a date? With who? Who the hell did you meet?”

Wilson squirmed uncomfortably and looked down at his feet in outright contrition. “Well, she just asked me this afternoon. She got this lovely reservation at the Bellagio, and we’re going to watch the fountains afterward and maybe see a show.”

Realization dawned on House like a cold, bitter winter morning. “Oh my God, you’re going out with Cuddy?”

“What was I supposed to say? I couldn’t say no!”

“Yes, you could! You could’ve said, ‘I’m sorry Cuddy, but I won’t let you sexually harass me.”

Wilson dismissed his claims with a wave of his hand. “It’s not sexual harassment. We’re just going as friends.”

“Sure you are,” House sarcastically drawled. “Just remember that when she invites you to her bedroom tonight.” With that, he stalked out of the room.

He couldn’t believe that he was going to spend his last night in Vegas alone. Sure, he could go find a hooker without Wilson, but he really hadn’t been in earnest about the plan. There was only one solution: go wallow at the nearest bar with the rest of the lonely rejects.

Fortunately, the hotel had two such bars, and House found himself entering the one in the back of the establishment. Hopefully it was far enough off the beaten track that none of his colleagues from the hospital would spot him there getting wasted.

He took in the potpourri of patrons, all in various stages of inebriation. They seemed like typical drunks, except for one gorgeous woman perched on a stool at the bar. Her golden hair fell in soft curls around her face, and her red sleeveless cocktail dress fit her body snugly. She looked askance at House, and his jaw dropped to the floor. It was Cameron.

Smiling wryly, she beckoned him over. “Fancy meeting you here.”

House ordered a bourbon and hefted himself onto the stool next to her. “Why aren’t you out there gambling?” He continued before she could answer, “Oh, that’s right. You’re too good for that sort of wayward behavior.”

Cameron took a slow sip of her gin and tonic. “I’ve got nothing against gambling. It just isn’t my thing.”

House received his drink from the bartender and took a swig. “So why are you all dolled up? Going out to the strip clubs?”

She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Wilson and I were supposed to go to Beatles: Love—you know, that Circ de Soleil thing? We made plans our first day here, and then tonight, he bailed on me.”

“For Cuddy, no less,” he taunted her.

She shrugged, unconcerned. “I don’t care if he wants to wine and dine Cuddy, but I do mind that I wasted good money on these tickets.”

House nodded, pretending to be deeply sympathetic, but his eyes were drawn to her legs. He observed, with much relish, that her miniskirt was showing more thigh than should be legal. He wondered briefly how soft the skin must be there, and felt his heart thrumming in anticipation. “Hey, Cameron,” he began quietly. “What do you say we get out of here and—”

“I thought you would never ask.” She placed an excited hand over his.

Surprised, he quirked an eyebrow. “I would’ve asked sooner, but I was afraid with your self-righteous attitude that you might be morally opposed to a one-night stand.”

Cameron quickly withdrew her hand. “I thought we were talking about the show.”

House felt his face flush, embarrassed at his obvious mistake. Why had he thought Cameron would want to sleep with him? “Of course we were. I was just pulling your leg.” He laughed nervously. “Gosh, you’re so easy.”

Cameron’s luscious red lips turned up into a bemused smile. “We better go now, if we want to make it.”

House paid for both of their drinks (for some unknown reason, he was feeling generous), and they caught a cab to the theatre. To avoid any discomfiting silence on the trip over, House lamely asked her about the show. “And who’s your favorite Beatle? Paul, because he’s ‘sooo cute’?”

She animatedly shook her head. “No. My favorite is George. People thought he was so serious and quiet, but he had this wicked sense of humor. And his music—it’s so underrated.” Nonplussed, House merely nodded in agreement. “What about you? A musician like yourself must have a favorite Beatle.”

House shrugged. “I like John. He said and did what he wanted and didn’t care what anyone thought.”

Cameron’s stare penetrated the side of his head. “I don’t think that’s true,” she said quietly. “I think he cared deeply but hid his feelings behind a sarcastic and smartass exterior.”

Something she said resonated with him. He turned to glower at her, his eyes flashing with anger. “Are you sure we’re still talking about John?”

Cameron calmly held his gaze and neither one spoke for a moment. Before she could reply, they arrived at the theatre, and the conversation was forgotten.

House found the performance wasn’t half bad. The acrobats were in various stages of undress, which was sexy in a disturbing sort of way, but the real showcase was the Beatles’ music. “Did you hear that?” he whispered gleefully at one point. “They took the riff from ‘Hey Bulldog,’ and stuck it on ‘Lady Madonna.’ Genius!”

Cameron was also enjoying herself. When an acoustic version of ‘While My Guitar Gently Weeps,” began to play, she let out a gasp of delight. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” she murmured, her voice choked with feeling.

House was fully prepared to mock her for her emotional reaction, but checked himself when he took a good look at her face. Slowly, a solitary tear slid down her cheek. And somehow, someway, he understood what she felt. It was a tear of regret, of what ifs and what might have beens. A tear that mourned the past and grieved the future. Before he knew what had possessed him, he reached out and gently wiped the tear away. Cameron stared at him in surprise.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he leant over and kissed her. Her lips felt firm and rigid at first, but gradually they melted to his touch, embracing his own trembling lips. She deepened the kiss, inhaling him like he was an intoxicating cologne. House gingerly swiped his tongue along the ridge of her teeth, searching for access. A little moan escaped her, and suddenly they were a tangle of tongues and fumbling hands. And as “All You Need is Love” blared through the theater, House thought truer words had never been sung.

They were still at each other long after the show ended, having returned to the comfort of his hotel room for a more private make-out session. Their passionate tryst lasted long into the night, Cameron finally begging leave so she could get some proper sleep sans distractions.

 “I’ll see you in the morning,” she promised, as she smoothed her crumpled cocktail dress. “Goodnight, House.”

“Goodbye, Cameron.” House knew this was it. As soon as she walked out that door, they would return to their former selves—he the surly, egomaniacal curmudgeon and she the altruistic doctor with the heart of gold—and they would put the events of the evening behind them. And why shouldn’t they? Wasn’t the saying, “what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas?”

Cameron seemed to realize it, too, for she fixed him with one last look of resignation, her eyes flitting across his face, soaking in every feature. “Goodbye, House,” she whispered before quitting the room.

House leaned back in his bed and played absently with his coverlet. If his experience in Las Vegas was indicative of anything, he needed to go to these conferences more often. And who knew? Maybe, just maybe at the next seminar, he and Cameron could pick up where they left off…


End file.
